Against the Dying of the Light
by ina-meishou
Summary: I pray. Do not go gentle into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light." Arcadia teeters on a razor's edge. By chance, fate and luck, the most unlikely of groups must steady it.
1. and Look Him Straight in the Eye

_**...and Look Him Straight in the Eye**_

23rd Day of the 1st Quarter of the 42nd Year under Her Glory, Empress Teadora Czara II

Vyse pulled his winter cloak tighter about his shoulders in the dim light the Silver Moon cast in the surrounding murk. The winter winds from the south had been strong this year. It was a bad omen, and he'd heard some of the men quietly muttering about it in the lower reaches of the ship, far from his father's ears.

He snorted, softly, and took a pull of the cheap loqua he'd brought up to warm him through his watch hours.

_And so the Violet Witch sends a bit more cold our way this year. Two years back was a short winter, and a few years before that there was talk the cold would never end._

He shifted a bit, trying to tuck his head under the lip of the tiny loopers nest. It _was _unnaturally cold, there was no denying that. Winter should have been easing its grip on the mid-ocean, the storms and icy chill giving way to a more temperate climate. As it was, the fishing seasons might be disrupted.

Or the Valuans might send out raiding parties to prey on the small islands while they were mostly grounded.

_Speaking of swine_ he thought as he adjusted the farsight lens over his right eye and braved the winds for a few moments to scan the fog shrouded horizon.

Before he could brace himself back in the relative safety of the low guardrail, the ship shifted slightly, probably Briggs at the helm. The tight-assed bastard was always just a touch harsher with the old girl than his father.

He spared a moment for an unkind word about the man's abilities as a pilot before returning to his seat and taking another swig of loqua.

_Moon's but its cold._

He whiled away a moment with pity for poor Luke, tucked in the even smaller keel nest. Keeping an eye out for threat from below was important, but nobody liked the duty. You had to be insane to _want_ nothing beneath you but a single layer of thin planking.

And that didn't begin to cover having to _lean over the edge_ and stare down into the roiling, eternal fury of Deep Sky.

His shiver had nothing to do with the cold.

He made to bring the flask to his lips again when an unearthly howl started him almost out of the rigging. He spent a thought hoping the flask didn't hit anyone on the deck before he was perched precariously as high as he could get. One arm griped the mast with white knuckled pressure, while the other fussed over the settings of his lens, trying to make some sense out of the damned fog.

He could see nothing but the mist phantoms that always followed ships in a fog. Ticks of light and shadow or wandering spirits, they posed no threat.

But something in the night had given that soul-rending call. Something he'd never heard nor seen in a decade of sailing.

And judging by the panicked shouts from the deck, neither had most of the more experienced crew.

And then it was _there_, looming out of the impenetrable night like a vast wall. A riot of twisted violet plates and what couldn't possibly be the oozing flesh it looked like, that he swore had to be bigger than all of Windmill Island. And he couldn't help but just _stare _at the indescribable _thing_ before him.

Distantly, he heard his own voice screaming itself hoarse. "Object to port! Coming closer damnit!" But he couldn't quite remember ever telling his body to speak. He could only stare, arm still locked around the mast as his own death approached.

Then he heard, distantly, the sound of cannon fire and again that earsplitting shriek rent the skies. And as he forced his eyes open, not ever remembering when they had closed, he saw that he wall was slipping back. The thing, whatever it was, was falling behind.

He heaved a breath into his aching lungs and touched a hand to his raw throat. When this was over, he was going to buy a bottle of good loqua from Torrence, damn the cost, and get well and truly drunk. And if he was lucky, he'd never think of this night again.

And then the eye slid past him, and in the second his gaze locked with the creature, and it was a creature he suddenly realized with a sinking sense of wonder, he saw Age heaped upon Age, far back into the days of myth and legend, perhaps even back to he fabled Fall.

And as the last of the creature slipped away into the shadowed night, he couldn't help but stare after it.

And he knew that nothing would ever make him forget this night. That when he lay on his deathbed, whether that was a hard deck tomorrow of a soft bunk decades hence; he would still hold that eye, that endless gaze, with perfect clarity.

When Aika hauled herself up the ropes to see what was wrong with her friend, she found him staring back into the sky, hands and face starting to go purple from the cold.

O0O


	2. Those Who Will Not Sail

_**He that will not sail till all dangers are over must never put to sky.  
**_  
41st Day of the 1st Quarter of the 42nd Year under Her Glory, Empress Teadora Czara II

"Lord-Captain, Forgiveness for the mess, but we did not expect you on-board for another week."

Enrique Czara III gave the dark haired officer a polite look perfectly calculated to remind him of exactly who he was speaking to. He repressed a sigh as the man stiffened sharply, his already unnaturally straight posture becoming even more rigid.

"Your concern is noted Lieutenant Quixote. But if I am to command the Delphinus in service, I can hardly shirk the home trials."

The bridge crew was too competent to let whatever reaction that had sparked show. Gregorio had hand-picked these men and women from all over the fleet, competent and loyal to the last. He let a pause run just long enough for them to think about it before he spoke again.

"As you were, all of you; don't let me keep you from doing your jobs properly."

He exchanged a last salute with he young officer before him, and he had to fight he grin off his face as he thought of someone likely close to his own age as young, and then moved to the raised command dais at he rear of the bridge and signalled his for Panza, one of his aides. While the man set up a small map table and a map of the local sky, Enrique sent Sancho, his other servant, off to find the navigator and ask him to come to the bridge at his earliest convenience.

Once the board was set up, he hunched over the table and tried to refresh his mind on the local geography. His Uncle had given him the finest crew in the Armada, and much as he appreciated the gesture, gaining the respect of that crew was not going to be easy.

Most of the major systems had already been tested extensively. He hadn't had the chance to slip away from the palace before now, and his mother would likely be furious when she discovered his absence from the ball she had planned for the evening. Doubtless she had arranged yet again for him to attend lady Hylia's daughter.

He felt it was worth it, to be here as they tested the greatest and most dangerous system on the ship.

This was where he belonged, not buried among the ancient stones of the palace, wasting away in a constant wash of social events. He belonged with the people, right in the midst of them.

Else how could he claim to know where to lead them?

O0O

There were those, he reflected, who would have sworn to the moons they worshipped on this hopelessly primitive world that his lord could inhabit no place other than some vast, dim chamber, glowing with sigils of arcane might, from which he saw and heard every whisper of every worker in the Fortress.

He knew; several years ago, in a fit of almost unseemly curiosity, he'd taken one of the alleged guards from the prison blocks and spent a few hours picking his brain.

Lord Galcian had not been amused. He had in fact made Ramirez write the letter of condolence, and sent it back for rewriting until it displayed the proper tone of pity. Not that either of the men cared particularly about the guard or his family, but the proper forms had to be observed.

Still, Ramirez found some enjoyment in the fact that his masters office, such as it was, was a rather small space made smaller by the constant, ever shifting piles of paperwork, notes, research, incalculably valuable tomes of mostly forgotten lore and half eaten plates of food.

Had they been so honoured as to have ever seen the Lord High Admiral of the Grand Imperial Armada's inner sanctum, the very domain of the man from whom a rumoured inspection could cause weeks of delay as nervous underlings tried desperately to prepare, they might very well have fainted dead away.

Knowing as he did the frailty of the surface Arcadians, Ramirez thought that that might very well be a literal truth, rather than a simple jest.

It was almost enough to make him smile.

He knocked politely on the door, once. Then clasped his hands behind his back and stood at an easy rest while he waited.

Two minutes later, he heard a voice drift through the solid wooden door.

"Enter"

He opened the door, stepped through and closed it quietly behind him before resuming his easy rest and waiting once more. This time with the scrape of a well made nib over smooth, fine vellum grinding in his ears.

He made no indication of the irritation it stoked.

Ten minutes later, his lord quickly washed the pen and sanded the missive, which could be either an important part of his ever vigilant network of spies and informants, or a polite but firm refusal for the hand of some blushing child.

_Or,_ he thought, knowing Lord Galcian as he did, _it could very well be both._

"Speak." Galcian said, setting the Vellum aside and reaching for something else from the never ending stacks of things that required his personal attention. Ramirez was not offended by the lack of his lord's full gaze. Galcian's ability to focus on multiple tasks, reports and missives at the same time was legendary among the military.

"Sir, several of our men among the dock crews have reported that His Majesty, Crown Prince Enrique Czara, boarded the Delphinus shortly before it left for the firing trials of the Moonstone Cannon."

"Hmm," Galcian said, eyes flicking over the report in front of him. "Accelerate our timetable. Begin the next stage of your task the moment the Delphinus arrives back in port."

Ramirez bowed deeply. "As you command, Lord Galcian."

He exited the room quietly, his mind already planning where to strike.

O0O

43rd Day of the 1st Quarter of the 42nd Year under Her Glory, Empress Teadora Czara II

"Lord-Captain, all is made ready, we await your command."

Enrique nodded from his command seat. The entire bridge was a flurry of activity and carefully modulated calls through the speaker tubes.

The original orders issued by the admiralty had been to find some barren rock and destroy it. The whole exercise was simply to confirm that the massive system would fire without destroying itself, and the rest of the ship with it.

Enrique had other plans. Recently, a Drago class Cruiser had experienced engine malfunction and crashed, it would be weeks before a scavenger ship could be dispatched. A day's cruise had brought them to the last reported location of the ship, and another had found them the remains, with a large section of hull still intact.

It was that wide expanse of grimy metal they now faced, the front amour of the Delphinus peeled away and the massive barrel of the central cannon extended. He wanted to know that he cannon could damage more than simple stone. If it was to be any use to him,it would have to be useful against much more hardy materials than armour plate as well, but his was the best he could do.

Lieutenant Quixote," he said evenly, "Inform the Cannon-master that I authorize his discretion to fire in his own time."

Enrique felt a thrill as the entire ship began to hum, the cannon's dedicated engines beginning to draw power for the weapon. Two weeks worth of high grade fuel was being drained for this single shot. This was the culmination of over a decade of research, a project costing enough to build and crew over a hundred warships.

It was his key, his only chance to end this madness.

"Firing Lord-Captain."

Enrique felt he entire ship tremble in the grips of the float fields as a flicker of energy left he front of the ship.

Then the world outside the broad view port the sky went white, and his hand leapt up to shield his eyes.

When his eyes stopped watering, and he dropped his hand, the remains of the ship, along with a large part of the mountain they had lain on, were simply gone.

In the festive atmosphere that filled the ship, none of the crew bothered to make a note of the Prince's laughter.

_Finaly!_

O0O

Dyne waited until the boy left his office before allowing himself to slump down in his chair. Whatever the reality of the situation, he couldn't allow himself to look defeated. The rumors would do more damage than that damned torpedo boat.

Not a ten-day after that monstrosity had nearly crushed the albatross, some new type of boat probably from Valua, had launched a torpedo from below the clouds.

That worried him. Ducking beneath the lower cloud deck for a few minutes, maybe an hour at most, was something he'd done himself a few times. It wasn't good for the ship or the crew, but it could help get away from a chasing ship if you were lucky.

But to sit below that threshold and wait to strike, that shouldn't be possible. The Ship would slowly tear itself apart and the crew would grow ill in the pressure down there.

And somehow, Valua had figured out how to do it.

He shook his head. He'd managed to smash the tiny thing with a torpedo, but the engine had been badly damaged, and according to the runner Clemens had just sent up, there were at least four components he had to buy.

And none of them were likely to be available outside Sailors Isle.

He lit a roll of tabak and stared at the ceiling, breathing slowly to prolong the life of the calming drug.

They'd have to send someone after the parts, but he didn't favour the chances of even himself making that tip in one of the small fishing skiffs that were now the only boats on the island.

Besides, the men had just returned from several ten-days in the sky. It wouldn't be proper to separate those as had families from them. And the unmarried men would likely need some more time to finish ridding themselves of their extra coin.

He didn't like it, but sending Vyse and Aika would probably be his best option. They were good sailors, good fighters, and reasonable traders.

And neither of them was likely to spend all the money getting drunk and laid.

Taking a last drag from the tabak roll, Dyne tossed the remaining scrap of smoldering paper into a metal cup.

"Roger," he yelled to the boy who waited outside his door, "Get Vyse and Aika in here, quick as you can!"

He heard a squeaky "yesir!" and the pounding of boots.

He sat back at the head of the large map table and pulled out several glasses and a bottle of Mur Loqua. This was a meeting he wasn't sure he wanted to be completely sober for.

O0O

Vyse finished forcing the nut he was working on tight and set about crawling out of the float engine. They'd captured it off a valuan cruiser years ago, and more than once its ability to steadily change altitude faster and with more stability that the more common air jets had gotten the old girl out of a tough scrape.

When they could keep the thing supplied with the parts it needed anyway. None of the close Towns and Islands had a float system of their own, and so none of them bothered keeping the parts around to repair them.

"What is it," he asked the boy. He half listened to the boy's message about how the captain wanted to see him while he tried to remember the boy's name.

"Thanks Roger, I think Aika was helping old Toby with the sails." He said, and the boy beamed as he scurried off to find Aika.

He smiled fondly. Roger was a good kid, and in a few years he'd be grown enough to be a good sailor. And remembering names was among the easiest ticks for keeping moral up.

He washed his hands in the small basin provided for it and made a token attempt at brushing the filth of his shirt before he pulled his blue coat on and started up the switchbacks towards his father's office.

Hopefully, whatever this was would take him off the island. He knew that keeping a ship in good repair was a part of being a sailor, but he itched to get back to he skies.

He stopped outside the office to wait for Aika. She'd be furious if she thought he'd left her behind. The rough planking of the wall behind him felt almost like a ships bulkhead, and he tried to imagine the soft rocking of a hull under his feet and the hum of engines.

"Hey, don't fall asleep Vyse, the captain'll yell at you, again."

"After he got done with you for being late, again." Vyse said, looking sideways at his friend as she flushed. Which did interesting things to her face.

He pushed off the wall and knocked twice before shoving open the door and stepping inside.

Vyse ignored his fathers glare and dropped into a chair. Aika didn't bother, instead simply leaning over and crossing her arms on the table beside him.

Vyse tried not to blush as his father grinned and raised an eyebrow.

_Why does she have to do that?_ He thought. Pretty as her thighs were, it was distracting to have her bum wiggling about right next to him. He shifted sideways to put his face further from her.

She shifted her hips and he had to close his eyes to avoid wincing.

This meeting was going to be, trying.

O0O

Dyne slid the pair a glass each and raised his own. Vyse nearly missed his and tried to cover his embarrassment with a rather deep sip.

Then his eyes slowly slid back to Aika's rear.

_Ah, to be young again._

"Vyse, quit eyeing her ass and pay attention." He barked, grinning to take the edge off the reprimand, "I've got a job for you too, and I'd prefer you remember all of it this time."

He could see Aika nearly preening, though at having an important job or his son's attention he couldn't say.

She was definitely laughing at his son though. He was certain she wouldn't laugh at her captain. Not to his face at least. Vyse may have forgotten all the times he'd earned a few swats for his foolery, but Aika probably hadn't.

"So captain Dyne, what do you want us to steal? Is it shiny?"

He emptied his glass and dropped his head into his other hand.

_Maybe these two aren't the right pair after all._

It was wishful thinking, but he indulged in it anyway.

"Shape up you two," he snapped, "we need parts for that damned valuan engine, which means you two are going to wrestle a fishing skiff all the way to Sailors isle and back."

He grinned at the betrayed look on their faces. Neither was idiotic enough to think that keeping a skiff upright in open sky, especially with the storms that were still blowing up from the south on occasion, would be pleasant. They were probably foolish enough or young enough anyway, the two often amounted to the same thing, to ignore the risk.

"Sound exciting enough?"

There was a pause. Then Vyse drained his own glass and slammed it on the table.

"Aye-Aye, Dad."

"Yeah!" Aika chimed in, and tipped her own glass back.

Dyne looked at them for a moment. He almost wanted to retract his order and send Briggs instead. But Briggs was needed here to keep the men in line. It wouldn't do to loose the crew on Windmill Island without at least a few minders. Besides, the pair were grown now, and it was past time they did a rouge's work with a rouge's risk.

"Get out of here" he said.

As the pair hurried out of the office to celebrate, Dyne reached for another roll of tabak. At the very least, this would keep the two of them out of everyone's hair for a month.

O0O

44th Day of the 1st Quarter of the 42nd Year under Her Glory, Empress Teadora Czara II

Fina lay at ease on a bed of the finest Nasr silks. Her head was propped up by plump pillows stuffed with jynnus down. Around her the walls were hung with rich tapestries, and the floors were thick with carpets. In one corner a small waterfall filled the room with a fresh scent and the gentle sound of running water.

Fina felt ill at ease amongst such barbaric finery. The sound of the water was distracting, and the faint organic scent that wafted from the flow made her stomach ill at ease. Her eyes, used to the austere grey of the shrine, found it difficult to focus among the multitude of stimuli provided by the wall hangings. The rugs felt odd and unstable under her feet, and she often had trouble maintaining her balance as she had been coached since her earliest memories.

The silks and pillows felt mildly unpleasant compared to the weightless sensation of a sleep field.

She knew that with a passing word she could have the chambers changed to better suit her wishes. Legions of eager servants, and she spent another minute wondering at the idea of living sentients doing the job of machine-servitors, would rush about in an incredibly polite fuss as they removed the trappings and silenced the water.

But she couldn't bring herself to so insult them. To these people this was the greatest they could offer, an incredible gift. She couldn't stand the thought of their faces if she were to make them realize just how poorly that best compared to the standards of her own people. She simply wasn't that cruel.

The knocks from the door broke her from her thoughts. It was a simple pattern, and one that would attract no attention, but she recognized it and stood.

"Please enter." She said in the liquid silver tongue. If it was merely a servant who had used the code by chance, nothing would happen. _But…_

The door clicked softly open and Ramirez stepped into the room, closing the door silently behind him. She felt cupil stir about her wrist and sent a silent thought to him to behave. She knew he didn't like Ramirez, though she wasn't sure why. She thought it might have something to do with glipil, Ramirez's servitor.

"I greet you, Finasaramiralihevoritinas." He spoke in the same language she had used.

"Be welcome Garesoledaritamofemeriloramirez." Even as she spoke, his arm moved in broad strokes, half spoken sounds dripping off his tongue as a soft silver curtain seemed to drift about the room.

_And now we are free from prying ears._

She broke the illusion of decorum first and hugged him. It was something the elders would have found obscene, and she had quickly learned to never do it without the protective curtain of magic. But this was Ramirez, her brother in all but blood. She could never treat him as simply another Silvite.

"Be easy sister for I am whole." He said as he wrapped an arm about her shoulders. "I bring news that the Prince has returned with the trial complete to validate his ship."

Fina felt her heart quicken. It was finally time to leave, a month after finding her brother, a month languishing in this opulent stone fortress; she could at last set about her mission.

Fina wanted nothing more than to spend an age speaking with her brother. He was always so busy, pretending to be an Arcadian, working to support the Silvite cause from within this empire.

She contented her self with a few moments before stepping away from him. He stiffened a bit, tugging his dress jacket straight and brushing at an imaginary hair. He'd never been fond of close contact, even in the shrine, and his years lost among these people had hardened him further.

She took it in stride.

"Walk always in the pure light" she said.

He nodded once and turned towards the door.

"May you walk though the weeping" he murmured before he stepped outside the chamber and the silver veil fell away.

O0O

Comments are welcome, honestly, even if you just want to tell me why you hate it drop a line or two.


	3. Split Your Lungs

_**Split Your Lungs With Blood And Thunder**_

51st Day of the 1st Quarter of the 42nd Year under Her Glory, Empress Teadora II

"The deals made plain enough boy. Ye can take it as it is or you get yerself and your woman off my ship."

Vyse would have felt more like laughing if the crazy old man hadn't made an excessively casual show of inspecting the large prosthetic where his right arm should have been.

Still, given the prevailing winds, they weren't likely to make it through the Great Cavern that broke the skyrift between mid ocean and the neutral zone without running out of provisions.

They needed supplies, and this cranky old fisherman was the only ship they'd managed to find.

He tugged his coat. It had started to warm a bit his week, but today had dawned cold and misty. He was starting to think that perhaps there was something to the superstitions he so often dismissed.

"You can't be serious. A ten-weight of 5 Purity Blue for three bags of smoked Sardis? The Nasultan himself would scoff at that price."

The man pulled a rag from his belt and rubbed at a speck of rust near the wrist joint of his prosthetic. From the way he glanced around at the mist though, he was getting impatient.

"Then I'd guess we have no further dealings to attend to boy." He said and waved at the skiff lashed to the side of his ship. "Off with ye."

Everyone on deck froze.

_That Sound!_

Vyse felt his heart in his throat. That same wail from three ten-days back had just rung through the fog. That same primal awe flooded him, rushing over until he felt like nothing more than a newly hatched hamchou. He felt the ship pitch beneath him as a shadow slid under it them, moving far too fast for something so huge.

The old man was shouting, and Aika was franticly pulling at the lashings for their skiff. Vyse forced the sense of utter helplessness down and ran to grab the food the old man had dropped, then turned for the skiff.

He was halfway across the deck when the ship heaved under him and he went flying into the mast.

He wrapped his limbs about the solid pole, forgetting about the fish, and hung on for his soul as the world spun crazily about him.

And then he knew no more.

O0O

Drachma felt the thrill run through his bones as Rhaknam made himself known.

"Here you are you miserable thing!" He roared, tossing the cloth aside and making for the bridge. "Finally decided to show yerself did you! But I'll put paid to you this time!"

In the corner of his eye he noticed the children trying to lose their boat. _As if that skiff would last a minute against the beast. _He ignored them, instead wrenching open the hatch and running for the stairs.

_Have to remember to put some controls on the deck somehow._ He thought absently. _Takes to damn long to get up here._

He grabbed the wheel and spun the ship towards the sound. The Little Jack was more sluggish than usual, and a glance showed him that the girl was waiting with the last loop of line while the boy made off with his fish.

_Damn the fish_

"Get that boat away from me ship you huskra!" he screamed in the general direction of the deck's speech tubes. "I've got a meeting to keep with an old friend!"

He felt frost start to form in the room; his beard went stiff with rime.

_Moonless Night!_

"You Bastard!" He howled at the empty room. "Gonna Blow old Drachma away without even a proper greeting? Stand and fight ye Deep-Spawned Monster! I'll see you broken ye…"

His cries trailed off into a long, wordless howl as a wave of frigid air swept the Little Jack up and sent it rolling across the sky.

The wheel fought like a mad grouder in his hands, but he locked the steel fingers of his right arm and set his legs against the deck. This wasn't the first time he'd been swept up by Rhaknam's breath. The Little Jack could take the punishment, and so could he.

And then he could toss what was left of that skiff the brats had tied to his ship overboard and get back into the fight. He managed to even out the Little Jack and ride the gale instead of being thrown by it. He glanced at the skiff to get some idea of the damage and felt his eyes widen in shock.

_Well they've a looper's luck, and no mistake._

The skiff was ruined, though he could see bits of its hull making a ruin of his rig.

What was surprising though was the redhead slumped beside the railing. And a quick glance about the deck showed the boy had managed to get himself tangled in the lines near the mast.

The odds that either of them would have had the sense to grab something before the ship started heaving through the sky were slim. That both of them had survived was simply to unlikely to be wholly luck.

_Might just make a half decent sailor yet, between the pair of em, _he thought.

He took a look through the windows that circled the bridge, and judged that here were no dangers near enough to cause worry, certainly the blast had carried them far from enough from Rhaknamto avoid that worry at least. Then he locked the float engine to keep the ship from drifting up or down and reached for the lever that would drop the sail.

Then he remembered the wreck that was the Little Jack's rigging.

_Damn brats. _He thought _bringing that skiff near my ship, it'll be all day setting the lines right._

He judged from the limp flapping of the sails that drift wouldn't be too much of a problem for a while and locked the wheel before stomping down to the deck.

O0O

'…and when held for consideration alongside the findings of the Pizaro expedition to survey the cave networks in the 41st year under His Glory, Emperor Concordo, the results of the new sonic mapping surveys gives evidence that any entrance into the ancient complexes would require extensive efforts on the order of…'

Enrique set the book aside and stood up. He'd spent the last few days rechecking any leads he could think of on how to get under the Grand Seal in the western mountains. But he hadn't had any more luck than the research teams that had been working on it off and on for decades. He stretched, it was an undignified habit, but here in the commander's cabin, there was no one to see his lack of poise.

The map table two steps to the right of his chair had a small, but well drawn map of the low altitude continents of the Nasr. He leaned over the table and stared at he yellowed parchment. Somewhere in that vast stretch of sand was the Red Crystal.

_Such a pity the Silvite ships were lost,_ he thought. _What wonders they could have brought us._

Of course, whatever other secrets the Silvite ships might have held, the most important was the exact locations of the crystals. The silvites themselves had only rough ideas.

Enrique slammed his fist on the table in frustration. He'd been so eager to leave, to begin this quest to stop his mother's madness. He'd blinded himself to just how difficult the task would be.

_Maddning!_

A quiet, knock at his hatch broke him from his thoughts.

"Enter." He said after taking a moment to compose himself.

Lieutenant Quixote stepped into the room and saluted. "Lord-Captain." He said.

Enrique returned the salute, and gestured for the man to sit on a stool. Quixote did so stiffly, far more stiffly than he should, given the rapport Enrique had carefully built with the man.

"What is it, Lieutenant?' he asked as he sank into his own chair. Whatever was going on, the man seemed on the edge of panic. Given what Uncle Gregorio had told him about Quixote that was…more than a little worrying.

"Sir…" Quixote looked aside, his voice trailing off. Instead, he simply held out a wrinkled message slip.

It took only a moment to read the short message. And another to throw off the crushing rage that boiled up after it.

_Are they so arrogant…_

"M-my Lord Captain, if you but give the order, we will…"

"You will obey this order." Enrique said. "And when you return to port, you will give no reason for anyone to think you are not loyal to the Empire."

There was a heavy pause.

"This cancer at our heart cannot be fought solely from without, Lieutenant."

The young mans eyes widened at that.

My Lord." He murmured.

"Go, and send someone to ask the Lady Fina if I she would care to join me at my table this evening."

Quixote stood and bowed, far deeper than shipboard protocol required.

"As you say, My Lord Captain."

As the hatch clicked shut behind the officer, Enrique sank back into his chair.

_What happened to us lady Rakis, what did we do?_

As always, there was no answer.

O0O

The first thing that hit Vyse was pain. It felt like someone had taken a boom to his head after a night in the tavern.

_Must have been some party._ He thought.

He blinked open his eyes, shading them against he blinding light of the sun.

_This…this isn't Windmill isle…_

He felt something cold settle in his chest. The deck he was laying on wasn't that of the albatross either, or the skiff he'd been on last he could recall.

Something was very, very wrong.

"Finaly awake then boy?"

He sat up, and the world seemed to heave around him. He fought down the urge to vomit and grabbed at his head.

"Easy now, ye've a lump the size of a nostridge egg on yer head."

He sat still for a minute, waiting for his head to stop spinning, then looked around more carefully.

He was on the ship they'd found earlier in the day, Aika beside him, by the sun it was mid-afternoon now, the rigging was a shambles, hanging limply off the masts and spars , and the sail was stretched over the deck , weighed down with coils of rope, barrels and crates.

On one crate sat the weathered old man he'd met this morning, carefully repairing a rip in the canvas.

"Go slowly then," the man said, not looking up from his task, "took a crack to yer head when Rhaknam brushed us off, don't need to be stumbling over the side on top of it."

Vyse blinked again, moving slowly and trying not to aggravate the persistent headache.

"Wha…" his voice was raw, and he realized that his throat burned like fire.

"Water's by yer left hand, and don't guzzle it."

Vyse found a mug of water and drank, it was warm, and tasted of wood.

It was wonderful.

"Wha," his throat caught and he took another sip and tried again, "What happened?"

The man laughed, though Vyse could hear the bitterness dripping from it.

"Rhaknam wasn't feeling playful boy, that's what happened."

Vyse frowned. "Rhaknam…so that's what it was."

The man looked up sharply.

"What's that now? Didn't strike me as one to believe in myths and legends boy."

"I don't," Vyse said, "Or I didn't."

He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, and again that Eye stared back at him.

"But I saw it, 3 tendays back, near enough."

The man grunted and went back to his stitching.

"So that was you then, I thought I saw another ship that night."

Vyse started to reply, but Aika shifted a bit, and he turned his attention to her.

He heard the old man clear enough though.

"Well, now the girl's awake too, get to work boy, with the mess you've made of my ship, it'll be a wonder to make Sailors Isle at all.

O0O

73rd Day of the 1st Quarter of the 42nd Year under Her Glory, Empress Teadora II

"Things would be much simplified had you completed your task, Ramirez."

Standing as he was, back straight, bowed at the waist, and with the full weight of Galcian's attention pressing on his shoulders like a mountain, Ramirez found himself unable to summon any resentment at all.

"Since we now lack a true servant among the crew of the Delphinus, we cannot even be certain when the Prince and the girl fled."

Ramirez could imagine the expression on his lord's face.

"The fools could be in the halls of the Nassultan by now, and the secrets in both their heads with them."

Ramirez failed to suppress his own wince. If the Gigas were truly reawakened, especially by an enemy power, everything would come crashing down.

"I accept the fault entirely, my lord."

That was simple truth, Ramirez had never been one to pass blame to another, his upbringing had held such an act to be unpardonable.

"Do not be arrogant," Galcian replied, "in any case, blame is pointless. Instead we must look to the future."

There was a long pause; Ramirez forced himself not to rub at his back.

"Sit."

The younger man sat.

"You will take personal charge of the Development of the Dangral Base. Your Orders will be ready by morning."

"Yes, lord."

Ramirez finally relaxed as Galcian reached for a bit of paper from one of the stacks by his desk, the sense of weight that had pressed down on him eased.

"Along with your orders will be a list of possible informants, I expect you to be discrete in this task, of prime importance is…"

Ramirez set himself to remember all that his lord said.

O0O

Enrique Czara II, Crown Prince of the Divine Realm of Valua, Chief Custodii of Mancha, bowed his head as he stumbled through the streets of Sailor's Isle and wished he'd managed to find more grime to rub into his hair.

Blond was not exactly an unheard of color here in the neutral zone, certainly not at a trade hub like Sailors Isle, but combined with his own fine features it marked him as an outsider.

It had taken almost a tenday to limp here in the small runabout he'd taken from the Delphinus, and it was an experience he hoped very much to never repeat. He wasn't certain he could live with the indignity of being tended by the Lady Fina as he wretched himself into starvation a second time.

At the very least, the jewels, arcane items and gold he'd brought would keep them comfortable almost indefinitely, and would allow them to hire a ship without much trouble.

As soon as he found a captain who didn't look ready to run him through and take the payment.

He stumbled again, nearly falling on his face as his toe caught on a cobble.

It was infuriating. How on earth did anyone ever walk with the road a mess of lumps and holes.

And the city…

The less he said about the place the better, it was a maze of wooden buildings he was convinced stood only for lack of room to fall.

_At least the grocer was tidy, barely _he thought.

He shuddered to think how they might have fared had he not spent half his youth sneaking off to the kitchens, or onto the guard-boats to the lower city.

Lady Fina was amazingly talented in bewildering variety of magics and sciences, but the longer he spent with her, the clearer it became that whatever her responsibilities, she was very much a child.

He stopped at an intersection to get his bearings, nodding as he realized he was nearing the house where they had taken rooms.

_Damn Galcian and his pet murderer._ He thought. He ought to be out finding the Crystals and easing conflict, not squatting in the streets waiting for a ship that wasn't full of pirates and madmen.

And here, in the anonymous alleyways, he allowed himself a moment's bitterness.

_And damn that Silvite brat as well, her idealism will be the death of us all._

He found the boarding house and managed to clamber up the steps without tripping, only to realize that his hands were full and his key was inside his coat.

_Blasted…_

O0O


	4. Thud and Blunder

74th Day of the 1st Quarter of the 42nd Year under Her Glory Empress Teadora II

Vyse stretched. Every muscle in his back, arms and legs felt tight and sore.

He had no idea how Drachma had run a ship this size alone.

As it was, the last two tendays had been a sort of grinding hell. Sails had to be repaired, ballast, stores and cargo shifted and secured, the lines and spars had to be fixed, hull cracks patched, ribs bound, the list was unending.

And there were only three of them to do it all.

Still, they had made it to Sailors Isle. And that was something.

There was, as Vyse was coming to think there always would be, a problem.

They had no goods for trade, no coin, and no ship.

They had, in fact, nothing more than the clothes on their backs, whatever gear they had on them when the skiff was destroyed, and a list of expensive parts that needed to get back to Windmill Isle.

All of which meant he needed to have a talk with Captain Drachma.

_Wonderful…_

He didn't bother brushing at his shirt before knocking on the captain's door; he'd quickly learned that the man didn't care about a little dirt.

"Get in then" he heard through the thick door almost before he finished knocking.

He went in.

O0O

Drachma sighed as he carefully sank into a chair. It had been a long haul up through the Great Cavern and into the neutral zone, and the Harbor at Sailor's Isle was more crowded than he was used to.

The children had turned out more competent than he'd thought, which had made the whole thing a great deal less trouble than he was used too. And they didn't complain about fixing the damage their damn boat had done to his poor _Jack._

_They might, _he admitted grudgingly, _be worth a damn, right enough._

He fumbled through his pockets for a bit until he found his pipe and carefully packed a few pinches of tabak into the bowl.

A splinter lit over the archwhale-oil lantern on the table set the weed burning and he leaned back contentedly.

There was a knock on the door, several in fact.

_Boy probably thinks an old man can't hear._

"Get in then" He grunted.

The boy did. He looked like he'd just crawled out of an engine.

_Good, means he's doing the work he's been told._

"Found the problem then boy?" He asked.

The kid nodded, looking rather pleased with himself.

"Bolt worked lose on the second rotator shaft."

Drachma nodded, not a fatal problem, but one that he was glad to be done with. The Float Engine had been acting up for days, and you couldn't pull one apart without setting down in a solid dock.

"'Spect yer wondering when you and the girl can get off then?" He asked. It was hardly a leap, the pair had been near frantic the whole trip.

The boy licked at his lips and shifted his hands nervously.

Drachma's eye's narrowed, and a goodly portion of the solid contentment he'd felt washed away. Whatever this was about had the boy twisted up worse than his lines had been.

He shoved the pouch of tabak across the table.

"You have paper don't you boy?"

The boy nodded, muttered something vaguely thankful and pulled a bit from his pockets. He fumbled a bit, his hands were still unsteady, but managed to get the better part of a pinch of leaf rolled into the scrap.

Drachma watched with interest as the boy frowned for a moment, then snapped his fingers, sparking a tiny flame that he cradled in his hands to light the roll before shaking his hand to put it out.

"Thought you were from the Silver Isles boy." He said, though now that he looked closer, there was perhaps a touch of the Nasr in the set of his face, and beneath the sailors tan, the boy might be a touch darker than was common in the southern isles.

That at least brought a smile to the boy's face.

"From a sailor's line sir."

Well, that would explain it. As well as why the boy worked like one born to the sky.

_But it would have been nice to know the boy was touched by the Firechild before I took him on my ship._

Nothing to be done about it now of course, and if he'd gone this long without setting the _Jack_ aflame, he wasn't likely to lose control of himself.

Drachma heaved another sigh, sending a thick jet of smoke to float near the deck above.

"Well then, out with it lad." The tabak should have settled him some, made it easier to find what was going on.

The boy made that odd sucking noise Islanders sometimes used to show reluctance, then leaned forward.

"We, Aika and I, we'd like to sign on for a long haul, paid in advance."

Drachma nearly let his pipe fall from his mouth.

_Deepspawn take me…_

He pulled himself together.

_Damned if I'll let this pup put me out of sorts._

"How long a haul, boy, and how much pay?"

Vyse smile was sickly as he pulled a larger bit of parchment from somewhere in his coat and smoothed it on the table before pushing it across.

"Enough for this, and to ship it to Windmill Isle."

Drachma picked up the parchment and ran his eyes over it, not a long list, but a pricy one.

…_lost half the resonance fluid and still kept the damn thing flying…cracked one of the tilemon braces…_

His respect for whoever it was the kids usually worked for rose a good deal. The kind of damage the list pointed to would send most ships straight to the Deep before the crew even realized someone had hit them.

Before he realized it, he was running through his mental tally of the notes and coins in the chest under his bunk.

He could afford it without any real trouble, he was careful with the _Jack _and wasn't prone to throwing away coin, and the extra hands would be useful, if unneeded.

Drachma wavered. It had been a long time since he'd hired crew.

_Hn, can always toss them over the side if they get too annoying._

"One year." He said.

That was fairly generous, the parts really were expensive, and shipping to the Silver Isles wasn't cheap either.

"Done." The boy said. Apparently he was smart enough to see a good deal.

_Maybe not so much of the Nasr then._ Drachma thought.

"Now," he said, puffing again on his pipe and settling back, "a list like that demands a story."

Vyse sat back himself, and let out a cloud of smoke with a sigh.

"Well…"

O0O

75th Day of the 1st Quarter of the 42nd Year under Her Glory Empress Teadora II

It was the surprise, more than the impact, which sent him over. He'd been paying more attention to the blasted cobbles than the people around him, and had run headlong into someone.

Fina had also spent the previous evening attempting to prepare a Silvite meal for him, and by this point he was hungry enough to be more concerned for the food he'd nearly dropped in the sewer than his dignity and manners.

_The things I do for country._ He thought as he scrambled to pick the least soiled items off the street.

"Here."

He blinked, refocused on the apple two inches in front of his nose, then trailed his eyes away from the rough hand holding it, up the lean arm and into the rather pleasant face of the girl he'd run into.

Who was by some miracle neither running off with half his purchases nor making threatening gestures with a weapon, but instead holding part of her own shopping to make up for the one of his sitting in a particularly vile looking puddle.

_Decency, in this hole?_

He took the apple.

"Thank you, I'm terribly sorry, wasn't looking where…"

"No problem." She broke in, "I was in a rush myself."

There was an awkward pause, and Enrique realized that for all his covert trips to the lower city, which had really made him feel quite well prepared for living incognito, he had no idea how to actually talk to someone he wasn't haggling with.

"So, what brings you to Sailor's Isle?" She asked, and he realized that they had both resumed walking sometime in the middle of his discomfort.

"Ah, my partner and I are hoping to hire a ship, for an expedition you see…" He and Lady Fina had spent some time working out what to tell whoever they hired. They couldn't very well say that they intended to seek out and claim the six legendary weapons of the Fall so that they could be sent to the remnants of the Silver people who lived beyond the sky.

They certainly couldn't mention that they would be acting directly against the concerted efforts of most of the Valuan Armada.

Shortly, he managed to get her talking, and she launched into a long, certainly exaggerated story about a daring fight with a Ship from below the clouds followed by a two week journey in a skiff.

It wasn't until he'd followed her through two stalls and a shop that he realized that he was going in the wrong direction to get back to his rooms. Before he could excuse himself and escape, however, something from her story caught his ear.

"…was huge, you've never seen an Archwhale like it. I didn't get a good look at it myself, but Vyse said it had to be…"

"You mean Rhaknam!"

She paused for a minute, a piece of fabric still pinched between her fingers.

"Er..yeah, I think I heard the Captain call it that. Sounded pretty upset too."

She leaned over conspiratorially. "I think he's hunting it."

Enrique felt like crying. After all this time he was finally going to get off this cursed island and get back to work.

"That's marvelous," he said, "you see that's exactly what my partner and I are trying to find. That and several other similar creatures…"

He babbled for a moment before managing to reign himself in.

"Do you think that your Captain would be amenable to two passengers? We can pay quite well, and…"

But the girl was already shaking her head.

"Maybe, but he's pretty tough. I don't think he'd take anyone who wasn't willing to work."

Enrique forced back a shudder. Fighting he could do, and shopping, and all the hours of work put in trying to piece together where they needed to go.

But hard manual labor on some scow…

_The things I do for Country…_

"Would you show me to his Ship?"

O0O

Gilder pasted his most innocent, charming smile across his face and tried to ignore the grim certainty embodied by the solid wall digging into his back.

Not to mention the two pistols pointed at his face.

At least the light was getting bad, most people had worse night sight than he did, and getting out of this was going to be a trick.

"Lovely evening gentlemen, lady, what brings you out?"

The leader of the patrol, a stunning young woman by his estimation, scowled at him.

"You."

He smiled harder. "Ah, you flatter me my fine lady, but I fear I have other engagements this evening. Perhaps…"

He broke off and narrowly dodged the kick aimed at his groin.

"Don't be coy, fool. Gilder of Cordela, in the name of the Imperial Valuan Armada, I place you under bond of law."

Gilder dropped his smile and raised his hands.

"Well, this is a disappointing development," he sighed, "I'm terribly sorry."

A flick of his wrists sent two of the pistols in his sleeves into his hands even as he wrenched himself out of the path of the ones pointed at him. His first two shots took the commander and her underling in the chest, and he dropped the guns and reached for his two main weapons. His right hand grabbed Mathilda the expensive, finicky magazine fed handgun he'd taken years ago from the corpse of a valuan noble, while his left dove for the somewhat less extravagant revolver tucked under his right arm.

The patrol kicked itself into gear, too much to hope for that they would fall apart. The swordsmen shifted carefully around to try and flank him while the four riflemen in the rear leveled their weapons.

Gilder hurled himself in a roll at the swordsmen to his left, the rifle rounds cracking just above his head, and came up shooting. This close there wasn't time to take a stance or properly brace his guns, he just pointed and shot and kept moving. The first round went wide of the first swordsman but the second smashed through the beaked helmet and dropped him to the stones. The rest of the magazine cut down all but one of the guards on this side of the alley, and that one he got behind and smashed the sword out of his grip and then clubbed him in the temple.

He dropped the pistol, no chance to reload and hold onto his shield. The revolver cracked three times and two of the gunmen went down. The next three shots only took down one of the swordsmen now closing in from the other side of the alley, spread out and harder to hit.

He dropped the gun and reached for another, fired and reached for another, and another. He pulled guns from his pockets, his belts, and the straps inside his coat. The swordsmen couldn't close without risking his shield, and he cut them down.

Finally, he ran out of loaded guns and the patrol ran out of men. He shoved the man, still fuzzy from the blow to the head, away.

"Sorry about all this mess." He said, and slammed a knife between the top of his armor and the lower edge of his helm.

There were over a dozen men laid out around him, he could hear the rest of the watch making for the sound of gunfire, and his pistols were empty.

"Hmm, and I was just starting to like the scenery."

He shoved his guns back into his pockets, time to properly clean and load and store them later, slid another clip into his darling Mathilda and hurried out of the alley and into the busy streets of Mercodora city.

_Maybe it's time to spend a few months near the Nasr for a change._ He thought. _Maramba perhaps, I hear Kasad found a wonderful new girl._

He smiled and gave a jaunty wave to a heavily armed patrol of guards as they rushed up the street and then turned for the docks and his _Claudia_.

_Yes, a nice long vacation away from Valua sounds quite healthy._


End file.
